Au Clair de la Lune
by lazily-here
Summary: Levi catches one of Hanji's minor colds, so she makes it her duty to help him in some way. What results is an old French lullaby for the humanity's strongest soul.


**A/N: I have this story posted on AO3 as well as on tumblr in the LeviHan tag, so I figured I'd put it on here too. This was the result of a writing prompt from an anon on tumblr; just short and sweet.**

**Enjoy!**

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If there was one thing Hanji Zoe had absolutely, unequivocally and irrevocably _had not intended to occur whatsoever_, was that one prickly clean freak Levi would catch her illness.

It all began with a mere sneeze in the midst of a fine young morning, sitting together, sharing coffee and comfortable discourse. It had only taken one little sneeze.

Hanji had been taken aback, quickly bringing up a napkin to wipe her nose. And Levi - he'd stared at her, ever-so slightly twitching at the particles of snot that were no doubt drifting about, unfiltered and minuscule in the stale cafeteria air. His brunette companion had met his wavering gaze, displaying genuine curiosity pertaining to his next actions. Would he rise with haste, bury his nose in his sleeve, tell her to take her plague elsewhere?

Neither of those things had happened. Instead he'd had his fists clenched in a restraining manner beneath the table, eyes closed, nose turned up in barely concealed disgust. He remained like that for a good minute.

And then he picked up his steaming cup of tea, took a sip, and continued with their previous discussion.

Pleasantly surprised at his apparent personal growth, although still mingled in with a nagging suspicion, she agreed silently that they disregard her infectious outburst.

Days later, the Squad Leader was recovering nicely from her passing cold. But she realized at the sudden sound of violent coughing reverberating around headquarters premises that she had been a mere carrier of the virus, and that a certain someone was currently suffering a weak period in his immune system.

She knocked on said someone's office door.

"Levi, did you catch my cold?"

There was silence.

Her knuckles rapped on the wood a second time.

This time, a thick, audible sigh reached her from the other side.

"Go - " a loud sneeze interrupted the low, sandpaper voice " - away."

In other words, he'd gotten her flu all right. And he was far from ecstatic about the whole situation.

So Hanji ignored his request, instead deciding to barge into his room anyway. She narrowly managed to dodge a clipboard aimed at her forehead.

"Aw, Levi, you _are_ sick," she cooed. The woman discovered the short man huddled into the corner of his bed, a single blanket clutched around his figure and a pillow shoved next to either side of his head. He'd also left his mug of now-chilled tea abandoned atop his desk. But Levi himself was a sight to behold.

Humanity's strongest soldier was an utter _wreck_. The dark bags under his eyes were more defined than usual, his face a sickly pallor excluding his irritated nose and feverish cheeks. Sweat beaded continuously off of his temples as well as most everywhere else from his glands. On top of it all he looked completely miserable (not to mention twice as frightening).

His steel blue eyes glared menacingly towards his (amused) intruder.

"If you're going to laugh at me, Mike already beat you to it. If you're going to try to help me, my squad has been fussing over me all morning, and I'm not in the mood for being pampered like a kid over a stray dog. And just in general I'm too exhausted for your titan bullshit, so, please." He didn't require further implications as to what he required of her. She knew full well he wanted her to leave.

"So they took your temperature?" she asked casually. Levi scowled.

"Yes."

"Put a wet cloth over your forehead?"

"Yes."

"Made you soup?" The Corporal dragged a hand over his face.

"_Yes_." From his tone through his gritted teeth, it was crystal clear to Hanji that his already paper-dense impatience was increasingly wearing thin.

"Tucked you into that nice, warm blanket?"

"Shitty Glasses-"

"Or the old remedy of singing you a lullaby until you fell asleep?"

"_Ye_-" Levi gave pause, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "_What_?" Hanji beamed at him.

"You've never been sung to sleep when you were younger when you got sick?"

"My mother died when I was three and I was 'adopted' by people who would laugh at the thought." Hanji cringed, but she walked over to his bed, settling herself down at its edge.

"Yeah, I never knew my mother much, either," she admitted. "But my father always sang me a lullaby when I wasn't feeling very well. Humm, he wasn't a good singer, though I appreciated his sentiment." Levi narrowed his eyes dangerously at the bespectacled scout.

"You are not singing to me, Four Eyes," he growled.

"Oh, give me a chance, Levi!" Hanji protested. "It's my fault you're sick, and seeing as the others have already taken care of you so well, there must be something I can do."

"Yes, you can take ten steps back from where you came a minute ago." Hanji shook her head, her short brown ponytail lashing about.

"Not happening. Now, get rid of that hunch and lie down properly, Corporal. Don't make me make it an order," she commanded him.

"I have a higher rank than you, Squad Leader," he retorted, putting a little emphasis on her military title. She nonchalantly smoothed the folds out on the sheets of his bed.

"Yes, well, you are relieved of duty for the time being, so you are officially demoted to 'Sick Grouchy Civilian.'" Her eyes sparkled with humor at the flash of aggravation in his. "So lie down."

Levi sighed, grumbling cusses as he lowered his body out flat on the mattress. Hanji scooted herself over to sit next to his head, bringing her hand up to his forehead. However, her wrist was immediately caught in Levi's tight grip.

"I'm already sick enough, Shitty Glasses. I don't need to catch some twisted mutated disease from your titan children, too, and whatever fucked up shit that Jaeger brat has." Hanji pursed her lips indignantly.

"I washed my hands recently," she insisted. Levi raised an eyebrow at her.

"Define 'recently,'" he scoffed.

"I wash my hands after I go to the bathroom, thank you. So that would be - a couple of hours ago! Just shut up and let me handle this." Hanji could see his face tick, but she disregarded it, her hand closing back in on his forehead after he released it.

He didn't want to nor did he expect to react like this, but he suddenly felt himself relaxed at her touch, the tense wrinkles in his forehead losing their creases. She kept rubbing the tips of her fingers over his head, easing his mind and soothing the aches in his head. He also didn't want to admit that it felt pretty damn good. And in the developed silence, lyrics fell from Hanji's mouth.

"_Au clair de la lune, mon ami, Pierrot, prête-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot…_"

Levi was mildly surprised. He remembered Hanji telling him that she'd learned French alongside English as a child, but the familiarity of the language managed to calm him significantly. It was rather ironic - he'd used French during his gang life so that they could communicate with one another with a smaller risk of revealing their secrets. It had been a rough life, but somehow the refreshment of his mother(?) tongue was a bittersweet reunion.

In addition to that, well - Hanji's singing was by no means extremely beautiful or oozing of great talent. But…

"_Ma chandelle est morte; je n'ai plus de feu. Ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu._"

It wasn't a horribly ugly voice, either. It was pleasant and gentle, despite her usually screeched words and gasping ramblings. At parts it was even a little off-key, but still flowed nicely nevertheless. It wasn't anything special, and yet it felt like home. And that was a sensation that was fairly new to the Corporal.

Levi sighed softly as Hanji continued to sing, and somehow her lullaby and ministrations on his head had the desired effect of making him feel sleepy. His eyelids betrayed him, falling slowly shut over his eyes.

Just before his vision blurred to the blackness of sleep, he could see the faint outline of a smile gracing Hanji's lips before she drifted into the next verse.

"_Au clair de la lune, on n'y voit qu'un peu. On chercha la plume, on chercha le feu…_"

Levi was soon extracting himself from the conscious world, focusing on Hanji's moderately sweet voice and her hands running in a comforting gesture through his hair. He decided that perhaps he didn't mind being looked after like this - at least, he wasn't _entirely_ against it.

"_En cherch…sorte…je n'sais c'qu'on trouv…sais qu'la porte, sur eux se ferma_."

Hanji carefully finished massaging Levi's head, pulling her fingers from his soft, short black strands of hair. The corners of her mouth turned up in another smile, this one out of satisfaction. Now that he was finally resting, Levi would be able to make a quick recovery in no time.

She gazed affectionately at the evident peace in his facial features. It was such an intrusion on what seemed like a very private moment for him, but he looked so calm and innocent. It was truly a rare sight.

Hanji hadn't even processed it before she acted on a sudden impulse, leaning down to give Levi a light peck on his burning cheek. Heat rushed to her own face after the realization of her action, and she vaguely wondered if she was coming down with a fever herself. She shrugged, pushing off from the bed to make her way back to the door.

Hanji stopped in the threshold, turning her head to glance back at her friend over her shoulder. She bit her lip, smiling again.

"Goodnight, Levi. Or - heh - should I say, 'Bonne nuit?'" Hanji laughed as Levi groaned in his sleep, muttering something incoherent. "Ah, well." With that, Hanji crossed through the entrance, the door clicking silently shut behind her.

And inside the dimly lit room, cuddled into his pillows, the still partly-conscious Levi smiled, too.


End file.
